Daniel hands Blythe a bottle of water. She takes it with trembling fingers and steps out of the car. He slides into the drivers seat, starts the engine and speeds off, leaving her alone on the edge of a wood.
Blythe washes her face, gathers her tangled hair, smooths her coat and, with slow, hesitant steps, heads toward the town.
She comes from a remote village to study veterinary science. She is in her final year at a university, and her good grades show she takes her future seriously. She wants a qualification that will let her escape the poverty and the drunken parents she grew up with, while staying close to the animals she loves.
That evening her classmates invite her to a party thrown by a wealthy student. At first she declines, but she decides a little fun wont hurt. The celebration is large, noisy, and full of loud musicsomething Blythe dislikes. She spends most of the night on the terrace, a glass of juice in hand, watching the lake.
Daniel suggests a drive through the city lights to get away from the raucous crowd. Blythe agrees, then quickly realises it was a mistake. He takes her out of town, forces her onto the back seat
Fragments of that ride flash in her mind, each muscle throbbing with pain. She cant remember how she reaches the dormitory. She shuts the door, collapses onto the bed and sobs into her pillow for hours before a deep, uneasy sleep overtakes her.
She misses several days of lectures, wondering what to do. Call the police? No one forced her into the car; it was a naïve night with a stranger. Seek comfort from her mother? Her parents are forever tangled in drunken brawls and frantic hunts for money to fund another binge. Blythe is left alone with shame and anguish.
Months pass and she almost recovers. She attends classes, chats with her flatmates and tries not to think about that night. She almost succeeds.
One morning she wakes with nausea, rushes to the bathroom, and brushes it off as a bad fastfood dinner. The episode repeats, again and again. At seventeen she finally understands: she is pregnant.
I dont want this child. Not his, not anyones. Every second will remind me of what happened. I hate him, she thinks, trying to name the feelingfear or revulsion.
All she wants is to get rid of the baby, so she heads to the clinic the same day.
Sweetheart, its not a big deal, the doctor says, but you need to know I wont go to court. Youre underage, and without your parents or the polices consent nothing will happen.
Okay, Ill come back with my mother tomorrow, Blythe replies.
She leaves the room, aware her mother, even if sober, wont take her anywhere. She has seven months until adulthood and six until the due date, so she resigns herself to carrying the child.
Ill wait. I dont need him. Ill give birth and be rid of him. Ill figure something out, she whispers.
Days turn into months. Blythe finishes her degree, pleased that her belly is barely visible even in the fifth month. She lands a job as a veterinary assistant, rents a modest flat on the outskirts, and the workload grows tougher each day.
One morning, getting ready for work, sharp pain tears through her abdomen and lower back.
It cant be that early, she thinks, but the baby is eager to arrive.
The labour comes so fast she cant act. Within hours she is holding a tiny boy who whimpers briefly before falling asleep, as if every sound would irritate his mother.
Even though she is a vet, she manages the birth alone, refusing to call an ambulance. She lies in bed while her son, swaddled in a blanket, sleeps beside her. She tries to feed him, to hold him longer, but she cant.
In the dead of night she wakes, the infant still peacefully snoring under a fluffy quilt.
Sorry, she whispers to him, I cant.
She removes the small cross that her grandmother once gave her, a charm said to protect its wearer. Take this, she says, fastening the cross onto his tiny chest. It didnt help me, but maybe itll watch over you.
She feels disgusting but refuses to back down. The child is not hers
She bundles him tighter, drags a trolley to the nearest supermarket, places him inside, and walks away without looking back.
Back home she packs a bag, rushes to the station, and within an hour shes on a train heading for whoknowswhere. Her priority is to disappear from anything that reminds her of the trauma, to start anew.
Ten years later Blythe has achieved almost everything she dreamed of. Shes been married for six years, runs her own veterinary clinic, and life seems perfectexcept for one thing. No matter how many treatments she tries, she cannot give her husband the child he wants.
Its karma, she tells herself, a punishment for past mistakes.
One evening she returns home to find her husband, Tom, sitting at the kitchen table with a troubled look.
Tom, whats wrong? she asks.
Its happened. I should have told you earlier. Im sorry, he says, swallowing.
Dont tease me, she replies, heart racing.
I have another woman, he admits.
Really? she whispers, sinking into a chair.
And theres more, he adds, voice shaking. Im leaving her. Shes pregnant.
Fine, go. Youve always been decent, Blythe says, thinking she somehow deserves this.
As Tom gathers his things, Blythe reflects on how fate seems to punish her for the choice she made years ago. She can no longer have children, and that feels like retribution for the brief chance she once had.
Her husband, the man she never truly trusted, walks out.
What about the baby left in that supermarket trolley? Alone, defenseless, abandoned
A sudden slam of a door pulls Blythe from her thoughts. Its her clinics receptionist, Maria.
Dr. Blythe, you have your first appointment at nine, Maria says.
Thanks, Maria. Ill change and be ready, Blythe replies.
She steps into a bright, spacious consulting room where a man holds a cat. A young boy pets the nervous animal.
Timothy, well help you, the man says.
Grandpa, lets show him to the vet first, the boy replies. Im Ian, and this is our patient.
Blythe takes the cat from the mans hands and begins the examination.
This cat has been with our family for ages. My late wife rescued him, and ever since shes gone, I cant leave his side. Hes been listless for two days, wont walk or play. I know hes old, but please help him, the man pleads.
Yes, of course, Blythe says, just as the cat darts off, sprinting around the room, then diving under the table and hissing when she approaches.
Let me, a young boy offers, slipping under the table and cuddling the frightened feline.
As he does, a small cross falls from beneath his shirtthe same one Blythe gave her son years ago.
Look, Tim! Hes fine, the boy exclaims.
Dad, thats good, isnt it? the man replies.
Blythe watches them, a single thought looping in her mind: This cant be happening.
Ian, stay in the waiting area with Maria while I explain to your father how to keep Timothy active, she says, turning back to the man.
When the others leave, she faces the man, searching for words.
I once No, thats not right, she starts.
Youre pale, Dr. Blythe. Are you okay? he asks, concerned.
Im fine, really. And hes fine. I understand now, she answers, trying to steady herself.
What about that cross on Ians shirt? he asks.
Its its yours now? she replies, confused.
She suddenly finds herself recounting the night a predator forced her into his car, the abuse, the abandonment, the pregnancy, the birth, the abandonment of her son. She tells him everything, leaving no detail hidden.
He listens in stunned silence. After she finishes, ten minutes of awkward quiet pass.
Weve been married six years, childless, the man begins, Doctors tell us hope is futile, so we adopted. We went to a childrens home, met Grayson, three years old, full of joy. He became our son. Last year my wife died, and we never told Grayson he was adopted. Hes my son, but now hes also yours.
Im not claiming anything, Blythe says, voice shaking. I made a terrible choice then. Ive suffered, hated myself, but I wont ruin his life again. I never expected to feel anything for him now, yet I do. I realize he isnt my son any longer.
Silence settles over the room. From the closed door, Graysons laughter drifts out, and tears well in Blythes eyes.
I know you cant pretend nothing happened, she whispers, and I cant either. We wont tell him, but youre welcome to see him whenever you wish.
May I? she asks, her voice trembling.
Sure. Hell be happy to have his own vet, the man replies. Come tomorrow?
Yes, Blythe answers, pausing before she adds, Ive wasted so much time. I need to make up for it.
Two years later, Grayson introduces Timothy to his little sister, while Blythe and Ian watch their children with affection.
